For What It's Worth
by The Best of Luck
Summary: Nate is on the search for his son in the Commonwealth. Arthur Maxson seeks to purge the Commonwealth of the Institute. Piper just wants a good story. Preston wants to protect the common people. MacCready looks for help for his son. And Strong wants to find the milk of human kindness and smash a few heads in. A novelization of sorts, of Fallout 4.
1. Prologue

**Concord, Commonwealth**

He could concentrate only one thing. _My son. Where is my son?_

In his hands he cradled a double-barreled shotgun, the barrels roaring as buckshot tore into the raiders. He was a demon possessed, driven by a singular purpose. The next raider raised his pipe pistol, only to be blown away by the thunderous fire of the vault dweller's fury. Another raider attempted to get a shot off, only to have her throat ripped apart by a savage dog, his fur matted with the blood of his enemies. She screamed as her life bled away.

The last raiders approached slowly, their makeshift weapons ready. He ejected the spent shotgun shells and inserted two more, waiting as one of the raiders charged forward, his weapon raised above his head. The vault dweller simply riddled the raider with buckshot, killing him instantly. The last raider tried to take advantage of the lack of ammo in the dweller's shotgun, whipping out a pipe pistol.

His mistake was thinking that the dweller wasn't ready. The dweller aimed a pistol straight at the raider's head and pulled the trigger. The raider's brains splattered across the walls of the Museum of Freedom. He lowered his pistol and sighed. _I did not want to this. But they left me no choice._

He holstered his pistol before reloading his shotgun. He looked down at his pouch where he held his ammo for his shotgun. Six more shells along with three magazines for his pistol. Six men were dead because of him. _I was supposed to leave this behind with the Army._ But the world hadn't let him. A world devastated by nuclear warfare.

"Are you the only one out there?" called out someone. It was the man who had been attacked by these vicious assholes, the fellow who looked like something out of a history book.

"Yeah, the assholes are dead," he responded, slinging the shotgun on his back. The dog came by and laid down near him, tired from fighting. A door opened and he saw the same man, the pinned up hat and the overcoat, armed with a weapon he had never seen before.

"Man, I don't know who you are, but your timing is impeccable. My name is Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen," the man said, introducing himself. Preston then gestured for the vault dweller to come into the room, where a stout white man was on a terminal, an Asian couple was huddling on a couch, and an older woman was sitting on a chair.

"Name is Nate. Nice to finally meet someone here who isn't a crazy murdering psychopath," the vault dweller replied, offering his hand. The "Minuteman" shook it with gratitude.

"Well, this is just a respite. The raiders pulled back but I think they're massing for another attack. And now you're stuck here with us. As you can tell,we're in a bit of a mess here," Preston said, rubbing the back of his head.

"What the hell happened?" Nate asked.

"A month ago, there were twenty of us. Yesterday it was eight. Today, it's five. First...first it was the attack on Quincy. Then it was the ghouls in Lexington. And now this mess," Preston said, his frustration and anger coming through.

"Sorry to hear about that," Nate said genuinely. Preston looked surprised to hear that and his demeanor changed to become more... _friendly?_

"Thanks...it's good to meet someone who cares," Preston said before looking at the man on the terminal. "We figured Concord would be a good place to settle. Those raiders proved us wrong. We had an idea, but we have nobody who's able to do it."

"Tell me anyway."

"Sturges," Preston said, gesturing for the man to stop doing whatever it was on the terminal," Tell him."

"There's a crashed vertibird on the roof. Old, prewar. The passengers left us a gift. A suit of T-45d power armor. Military issue and seems like it hasn't been used in two centuries. Only problem is that none of us know how to operate it. Damn thing needs some special training and we ain't got no instruction manual. That was the idea instead of waiting for our doom," Sturges said with anger.

 _Well that's a problem I can fix._

"What if I told you that I can use that armor?" Nate asked and Sturges looked at him with hope.

"Now don't go giving me hope. There's only a few people that can use power armor in the Commonwealth. You're telling me you know how?" Sturges asked and Nate nodded.

"Well I'll be," Sturges said, slapping his knee. "There's a minigun on the vertibird as well. Get the suit, rip off the gun, and you can give those raiders an express ticket to hell."

"How do you know how to use power armor?" Preston asked and Nate sighed.

"Learned how to use it in the army."

"The army?" Sturges asked and Nate shook his head in disbelief.

"Long story short. I'm from before the war and I was in the United States Army as an infantryman. Learned how to use power armor before being discharged," Nate explained.

"Holy...you're from before the war? Explains the vault suit. Doesn't matter right now. We, and by we I mean you, need to clear out this town so that we can get the hell out of here," Sturges said and Nate nodded. He knelt down next to his dog and petted him.

"Alright buddy, I need you to stay here," and the dog licked him in response. Nate laughed before looking at Sturges and Preston. "I'll be back."

He started for the stairs, leaving his shotgun and pistol with Preston. He needed a specialized body suit for the power armor, but his vault suit would do. He removed the leather pieces he had taken from some of the raiders and placed them on the table as well.

"I'll support you from the balcony with my laser musket, but the hard job is yours," Preston cautioned him as he headed up to the roof. _I got this Preston. Just leave those son of bitches for me._

He climbed the stairs to the roof where he opened the door. Outside he could see the clouds start to gather. Drops of rain started to pour on his hair and he looked forward. There it was. A suit of T-45d power armor. The armor was a bit rusted from two centuries of non-use as he looked over it. The right leg was a bit more damaged while the left arm seemed to be not in good condition. But it was power armor. And it was _his._

It was time.

* * *

Gristle was angry. Not angry like when he wanted some Jet, but _fucking anger._ Jared had told him to do one thing. Mop up the last Minutemen and capture Mama Murphy. For a month he had hunted down the last Minutemen with his gang, killing most of them. But then those fuckers had managed to hole up in Concord's Museum of Freedom and he and his gang were force to assault it for days. He had lost half of his raiders before he finally killed off the last Minuteman besides their leader and now it was down to a weepy couple, a mechanic, Preston, and of course... _Mama Murphy._

It was going well until some stranger and his dog appeared. They had torn through his raiders like nothing, killing a dozen men and reducing his gang to a mere dozen now. Instead of assaulting the Museum again and risking close-quarters combat, he decided to wait them out.

"Come out, come out you fucking cowards!" he shouted and his raiders repeated his antics, jeering at the settlers to come out and face the music. He adjusted his hold on his hunting rifle, the barrel shortened. The other members of his gang were surrounding the entrance of the Museum and waiting for them to come out.

One of his raiders, Bone, was on the roof with a scoped hunting rifle, one of the few Jared had. He had deemed it important enough for Gristle to have and so Gristle gave it to Bone. Bone was the best shot in the entire raider clan they belonged to and despite being addicted to Jet, he was the most dependable one too.

"You see anything Bone?" he yelled above and got back a _"nothing"_ in response. He was getting impatient. He was about to inject himself with some Med-X when Bone shouted in alarm.

"What the hell is that?" Bone said in disbelief. Gristle was about to ask what Bone was talking about when he heard the whine of a minigun start. Seconds later the bullet riddled body of the best shot in Jared's gang. The hunting rifle was cut in half and all he could do was stare as one of his men was shot in the chest by a laser musket. _Preston,_ he growled to himself. His anger was starting to grow even more than it was before all of it went to shit. Outside something fell down to the street, but he didn't give a damn.

He grabbed his rifle and ran into the main street of Concord, expecting to see the Minuteman.

Instead what he saw was a giant.

In its hands was a minigun, the barrels starting to spool. And out came the hot lead.

* * *

Nate sprayed the main street of Concord with his minigun, catching two raiders in the chest and killing them instantly. The power armor was a bit sluggish but the way the .38 rounds of the raiders pipe guns ricocheted off was a great trade off. He aimed the minigun and started up the barrels again, bullets chewing through soft tissue. He repeated the tactic, killing any raider dumb enough to remain in the street.

 _Just like in Alaska._

Those nightmares, however, were much tougher. _This,_ however? _This_ was child's play.

* * *

Gristle pulled himself off the main street, desperate to stop the pain in his leg. A round had torn through his knee as he watched his men, _brothers,_ die at the hands of the tin man. As he groaned, he settled in the wall, hearing the blasted minigun chew through his men like a dog ate a bone. _And Bone is dead._ His rifle was in his hand as he tried to look outside the window of the building he was in. He couldn't.

 _What the fuck._ The fucker was wearing power armor. _Fucking power armor._ He hadn't seen anything like it before. Bullets pinged off it like nothing, the ballistic weaponry of his raiders doing absolutely nothing. One of his men got the bright idea of throwing a Molotov Cocktail to try and cook the bastard, but instead he walked through the flames, looking like some kind of _demon._

He searched through his pouches, trying to find something to fight against the tide of agony he was in. Finally he settled on a syringe of Med-X. He injected himself with the painkiller and sighed with relief as they worked their magic. He grasped his rifle in his hand and watched as the tin man walked past him, laying down a blanket of lead towards a group of his men. _Oh what the hell._ It wasn't like he was going to get Mamma Murphy. He aimed the rifle at the tin man's helmet.

And squeezed the trigger.

* * *

Nate had finished hosing down the last of the raiders when he lurched forward, his helmet being hit by a powerful force. He turned around, his motion sensors indicating someone was still alive. It was in a wooden building, the wood decaying from years of being in a wasteland. _And the last one shall fall._ He let the barrels warm and spin...and emptied the last remnants of 5mm ammo into the raider hiding in there.

The raider's body slumped forward, a unique blue Mohawk indicating that he might have just killed their leader. _And with that, the tower crumbles._ The crumpled bodies of a dozen raiders littered the town. He looked to see Preston waving at him from the balcony.

But then...a tremble. He turned around to see a sewer grate catapult and something... _a...claw?_ grasp the edge of the hole it was in. And out climbed the ugliest son of a bitch he had ever seen.

* * *

Preston whooped with glee as the last raider was hosed down by Nate, their mysterious saver from before the war. That was Gristle it seemed, the man who had hounded him for the past month. Seeing that man dead...it was a little satisfying, he had to admit. His laser musket still smoking, he cranked it once more. he had killed two raiders with precise hits and Nate had taken care of the rest.

But then rumbling was heard. A sewer grate catapulted int the air and a claw grasped the edge of the hole. it was hunchbacked, a bipedal reptilian build with long humanoid arms. It stood roughly nine to ten feet tall, with a thick and resilient hide, powerful muscles, and twelve-inch-long, razor-sharp claws that extended from both hands. Gnarly horns grew from its head where a row of sharp and wicked teeth glistened.

A fucking _Deathclaw._

"Shit! Sturges get over here. Get your rifle!" he ordered and Sturges appeared behind him, armed with a pipe rifle that chambered a .38 round.

"What's the matter Preston? Heard that the shooting stopped and-" Sturges cut himself off as he saw the Deathclaw emerge from the sewer grate, towering over their hero.

"Fire!" he shouted and Sturges didn't need telling twice. Both of them fired their weapons, the laser musket hitting first, straight in the snout. The laser scorched the end of the Deathclaw, making it howl with anger. But the damn thing roared instead and slammed its foot, staggering Nate. _Damn...so powerful a single stomp almost toppled a man wearing power armor._

They continued to fire but their weapons barely made a difference. It was all up to Nate.

* * *

Nate clenched his teeth as he was staggered. The damn thing was _strong_ and it was scary as hell. Those two horns stood a foot tall, while its claws looked like it could carve through power armor like a knife through butter. _Oh well. Here's hoping 5mm rounds still have the same kick._ He started to spool the barrels and fired. The rounds started to impact on the toughened hide, some simply slipping to the side and others imbedding itself into the skin. But the creature continued forward, even as dozens upon dozens of 5mm rounds slashed into it.

 _It is not slowing down,_ he realized. The Deathclaw was coming faster and faster, closing the few hundred yards in a few seconds. His ammo count was rapidly going down and still, _still!,_ the overgrown mutated lizard wasn't dead. He grunted in frustration as he slammed another five hundred round drum magazine into the minigun, his last one. He simply aimed and fired.

The bullets continued to whiz towards the Deathclaw, who was not only a few hundred feet away from Nate. He simply held his ground as the bullets hit flesh and bone. Half of the Deathclaw's body was slick with blood, but _it just kept going._ His ammo count was lower now, only three hundred rounds remaining. He had barely used two hundred on the raiders, killing a dozen like clockwork, but the creature continued to tank it. Despite hundreds of bits of lead and death embedded into its skin, the Deathclaw continued forward.

The problem was that the minigun wasn't accurate. He couldn't simply aim at its head. He had to continue to fire at its chest. Plus that's how he was _trained._ Soldiers were trained to shoot center mass and not stop shooting until their enemies were dead.

But he decided his training be damned. He had fought commandos in Alaska and against a crazy Chinese general armed with a shocksword, but that was _it._ He had never fought against an overgrown mutated lizard that tanked 5mm rounds. So he switched his aim.

And he pulled the trigger. He hosed the area where the Deathclaw's legs were. Unlike its chest and head, they were less protected and a few dozen 5mm rounds shredded its knees and joints. The Deathclaw tumbled before falling, sprawling onto the ground just a few feet away from Nate. The barrels smoking, he aimed the beast of a weapon at its face and fired. Twenty-six bullets emptied into the Deathclaw, turning its face and jaw into mush as the HP rounds tore through flesh and bone.

The creature was dead. Concord was safe. Nate sighed with relief as he looked at his ammo counter. Zero bullets left. He threw the worthless hunk of metal on the street. He turned towards the balcony and saw Preston waving his hands and Sturges giving him a thumbs up. A bark soon followed as Dogmeat appeared as well. He had killed over a dozen people and then killed some mutated overgrown lizard with claws that could have torn through his armor like nothing. He was alive! By God and Country, he was _alive!_

He started to laugh, the laughter carrying over into his helmet's voice amplifiers. _Alive! Alive! Alive!_ He looked at the smoking corpse, the dead raiders that littered the town, and moved towards the museum. Two hundred years ago, he would have been mortified at the thought of slaughtering people in his own country. But the USA was gone. His wife, the love of his life, was _gone._ His son was kidnapped. He hardened himself.

He headed back into the Museum of Freedom, back on the search for his missing son.

 ** _A Note. Power armor is not going to be as available in the game. Fusion cores don't power power armor. Not every raider and their mother is going to have a set of power armor or homemade power armor. It's gonna be the T-45d, the T-51b, th3 T-60a, and the X-1. That's it. The Gunners might have a few power armored troops, but they are not going to have vertibirds. The raiders, especially the raiders, will not have power armor. The Brotherhood of Steel will have vertibirds, power armor, and their giant airship. But I'm not going to spread the power armor like candy like the game does._**


	2. Best Laid Plans

_**Prydwen,**_ **Somewhere Over the Atlantic Ocean**

Elder Arthur Maxson glimpsed over the reports he had been given. Five reports detailing the integrity of the airship, the readiness of the Pride, the repairs going on with various suits of power armor, the state of the vertibirds, and Proctor Ingram's health. In short, the airship wouldn't be falling apart, though Ingram wanted more time to fix it. The Pride had been training in simulators for the past week and Paladin-Commander Glade was training them hard as well. Maxson had wanted to bring along the Sentinel, but _someone_ had to watch over the Capitol Wasteland.

 _Not much of a wasteland at all._ Fresh water had rejuvenated most of the place. With his Sentinel holding down the fort from the Citadel he had brought almost a _third_ of the Brotherhood of Steel and most of their vertibirds and T-60a power armor suits with them. They were being treated with great care but Maxson knew that they would be needed for the fight ahead. He flashed a rare smile when he saw that all of the vertibirds had been brought back to operational status. Two of them had sustained heavy damage when he had ordered an assault on a raider fort that held valuable intelligence and technology. They had been fixed and would be put back into action within in the next few days.

But what worried him the most was Proctor Ingram. She was working herself to death. As a soldier Maxson could understand her dedication. But working nineteen hour days with barely four hours worth of rest could overwhelm even the most dedicated of soldiers. He would have to order her to rest more often.

His intercom in his private room buzzed. Pressing a button, he impatiently asked what they needed.

"Elder Maxson, the Council of Elders are online and waiting to speak with you."

 _And there it is. Is it already that time?_ He was the youngest of the Council. But he had three things going for him. First, he was in charge of the most powerful Brotherhood chapter in the entire United States. The very _fact_ that he was able to gather a third of his own force, take an airship to a Commonwealth hundreds of miles away, and still keep the District of Columbia sufficiently garrisoned meant he had great leverage. Second, he was a _Maxson._ The last of the line of the founders of the Brotherhood. And third, he had a giant robot. Sure it might be pieces and rusting away in the storage bay of the _Prydwen,_ it still had the capacity of destroying everything in its way. When it was working.

"I'll be right there. He shuffled his reports into a neat stack and placed them on his desk. He would be on the deck in mere moments. As he exited his room, two knights clad in T-60a power armor followed him. It was annoying, but Star Paladin Cross refused to allow him be unprotected, even in the middle of the most heavily guarded Brotherhood controlled place outside of the Citadel.

He entered the elevator, the machine groaning as his two guards followed him. The elevator descended a floor down and he exited. Knight-Captain Kells was lecturing one of the squires on proper etiquette. He grimaced. He didn't want to bring squires, but it had to be done. These squires were the future of the Brotherhood of Steel and many of their teachers were on board this airship. _The future of humanity,_ he reminded himself.

He stepped into the projector room where five screens were lined up. Soon they flickered one, each with the face of an Elder of a chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel.

Elder Angela Torres of the Texas chapter was an older woman in her fifties. She was in command of a small but significant amount of Brotherhood whose duties were obscure. She mostly kept to herself and her chapter was isolated. Arthur mused that she liked it that way.

Elder Veronica Santangelo commanded the Mojave chapter. Besides Maxson, she was the youngest at only thirty years old. She was friends with the local warlord, ( _sovereign,_ Veronica liked to emphasize) who ruled from the New Vegas Strip. Her chapter was the one in the least danger, helping to patrol some minor highways and keeping the local Hoover Dam running in exchange for technology and food. She also followed Maxson's policy of recruiting from outsiders with sponsorships, though it took a small civil war for that to happen. The Brotherhood didn't like to talk about it.

Elder Michael Patrocolus was the leader of the Montana bunker. He was the eldest of the group, at age eighty. Sprawling out across the Montana wastes, the Brotherhood there was the most powerful force there...mostly because they were the _only_ forces there. They controlled the city of Helena, which sat on major trade routes. He would have commanded the most powerful Brotherhood chapter if not for Maxson himself.

Elder Robert DeAngelo was the ruler of the Midwestern chapter. He was relatively young and the newest of the Council. Unlike the rest of the Brotherhood, his chapter recruited from _anyone._ His own paladins were trained by a goddamn super mutant. But considering none of the Brotherhood had the strength to reprimand him he was allowed to continue with his practices. They were after all, a small chapter centered around Illinois and the city of Chicago.

Elder John Rhombus lead the remnants of the California chapter. War between them and the NCR continued to rage. He was the youngest son and also one of the last descendents of a long and proud Brotherhood family line. He had been asking for help, but with Elder Santangelo unable to convince the local warlord ( _Sovereign)_ to intervene with his arm of robots and monsters, the Brotherhood there would soon be gone. It was a sorrowful tale, but something that could not be avoided.

"By Steel, welcome," he greeted. " In the words of Elder Patrocolus, welcome. _'It is in service of Steel and guardianship of one's Brothers that each man finds his purpose. My friends, stand with your Brothers. Guard them... guide them. And in each of them find purpose._ _Steel be with you!_ "

"Steel be with you," each of the Elders greeted.

"Now let us get onto business," Maxson said. They had still had the issue of electing a High Elder. The obvious choice was Maxson, but he was far too young to be commanding around the other elders, even if he was the most powerful one. They would argue about it and then forget about it. _Typical._

But the main issues was why Maxson was on a damn airship in the first place.

"Elder Maxson, how goes your mission to the Commonwealth?" Elder Torres started off. Her brown eyes boar on him and he grimaced inside.

"We are two weeks away from making landfall in the Commonwealth. Unfortunately I have been unable to communicate with the recon squad I sent, though their last transmission from two weeks ago indicates that they are doing proceeding as planned. Soon we will eradicate...this _Institute,"_ he said with disgust in his voice. "Their technological advances will be destroyed. These... _synths_ will be eradicated for the cancer they are."

"Does your chapter still not know?" Santangelo asked.

"They still do not know. But they are dedicated in their loyalty to the Brotherhood. One more month and they shall know. The entire Commonwealth shall know our purpose there."

"Good," spoke Patrocolus, his ancient voice rumbling. "How goes the war against the NCR?"

"Badly. We've had to retreat farther and farther north. Our losses are staggering. I've lost over forty paladins in the past two weeks. We can't hold them off forever, no matter our technological edge. There's a reason why my grandfather advised Elder Jeremy Maxson _not_ to fight with the NCR," Rhombus said somberly.

Arthur bit a biting retort in his tongue. Now was not the time to get into a pissing contest with Rhombus. After all...the man was _right._

"I keep telling you Rhombus, say the word and I will march to you," Elder DeAngelo said irritably. Maxson raised an eyebrow just as Rhombus laughed.

"And why would I want the support of a man who lets a _super mutant_ train his men?" Rhombus asked.

"Because I'm your only goddamned hope. With the Legion no longer breathing down our necks I can march on the NCR. Just say the goddamn word and I'll march," DeAngelo said, almost pleading.

"I will never accept the help of a man who so casually throws away the Codex for his own personal gain!" Rhombus retorted.

"The Codex is what dragged you to this level in the first place!"

"Well at least I didn't betray the Brotherhood's founding ideas!"

Just as DeAngelo was about to shout back, another voice interjected.

"Can we stop the dick measuring contest now? Rhombus, you know that I don't have the strength to go to war with the NCR. I have fifty paladins. The Mojave is still recovering from our little civil war because our old Paladin thought a superweapon that didn't _work_ was worth getting into a fight with a robot army commanded by a man who crushed two armies in a single day. And DeAngelo, stop pretending you have the strength to march on the NCR. You barely have enough men to keep your small little empire alive," Veronica said, effectively shutting the both of them up. "Now, can we go back to the business at hand?"

Both men were silent.

" _Thank you,"_ Torres said.

"Let us continue to the real reason why we are talking to each other. We thought we saw the last of them when the Chosen One blew up their oil rig off the coast of California. We thought we saw the last of them when the Lone Wanderer blew up their headquarters and sent orbital missiles through their mobile base crawler. No. They've sprung up somewhere else. Somewhere we can't get them," Patrocolus said.

Maxson grimaced. He knew that the Institute was a danger, _a real danger_ that needed to be cleansed from the Earth. The Institute was bad. But at least they were in only one region instead of spread across the rest of the old United States. Once they were gone, they would be _gone forever._ Not scurrying from one place to another.

But the _Enclave?_ They were much worse. Much, much worse.

"As soon as Maxson's expedition is over, we have to figure a way to get to _Alaska."_

* * *

 **Concord, Commonwealth**

Nate took off his power armor helmet and placed it gingerly on a redcoat mannequin. The survivors were assembled in the entrance of the Museum of Freedom. The Longs were huddled in a corner, Sturges was leaning against a wall, while Preston was asking Mama Murphy something.

"Take it easy Mama. You okay?" Preston asked, concerned.

"Quit fussin. I'm fine," Mama Murphy responded, waving off any concerns. In his power armor Nate walked towards Preston. The servos grinding from not having any work done in over two hundred years, Nate knew he would have to get out of it soon.

Preston looked up to see Nate right in front of him. Eyes wide, Nate could tell that was the first time Preston had ever seen someone in power armor.

"That was...a pretty amazing display. I'm just glad that you're on our side," Preston said genuinely.

Nate looked over the group. Even with all the raiders dead, where would they live? They couldn't go from place to place, trying to stay away from raiders and wildlife. He had only been in the wasteland for a few days, but he knew that they would be dead if they kept going on like this.

"Are you guys...going to be okay now?" he asked. Preston nodded his head, though his demeanor told a different story.

"Yeah. For a while, anyway. We can at least move somewhere safer," Preston said. The Minuteman then sighed before lowering his laser musket and standing it upright next to him. "Listen, you said you were glad to help. And we owe you our lives. So...it ain't much, but it's the best I can offer."

In his left hand was a bag of caps. Nate looked at it. _Most likely the currency of this place._ In it was a hundred caps, to Nate's rough estimate. He took it and held it in his hand.

"No. You need it more than me," Nate said handing it back. Preston looked at him with surprise before shaking his head.

"No. You helped us. If it weren't for you we would be dead and Mama Murphy would be gone," Preston said. As he did so, he looked over the rest of the group. And it looked like he had a great idea. "But considering that you don't want money...there's something I want to ask you. We're trying to get to a little suburban area. Sanctuary Hills. We're going to get settled there and we could use your help."

 _No. Not_ Sanctuary Hills. The little home where he had met his wife. Near the park where they created Shaun. _My son._ That was the entire reason why he left that godforsaken vault in the first place, wasn't it? To escape the memories. To escape all mention of his old life. To find _his son._

But he couldn't just abandon these people. They were the first friendly people he had come across except for Dogmeat. He sighed again. _It's for the better,_ he told himself.

"Yeah Garvey. I'm in. Let's go to Sanctuary."

Mama Murphy then lifted her head and smiled brightly.

"Oh that's wonderful!" she drawled. "But there's more to your destiny isn't there? I've seen it. And I know your pain."

 _Destiny? What the hell is my destiny?_

"Destiny?" he asked skeptically. He remembered his wife hated mention of the word _destiny._

 _'Destiny is just a fanciful word that let's people escape their problems and blame it on something else,'_ she said to him once, when he said it had been destiny for them to meet. It was the lawyer in her.

"You're a man out of time. Out of hope," she said sagely. "But all's not lost. I can feel...your son's energy. _He's alive."_

 _Bullshit. How the fuck does she know I'm looking for Shaun?_ He wanted to say coincidence. Lucky guess. But he had told nobody else that he had been in the army besides Preston. He never told anyone else he was looking for Shaun.

"I'm...I'm listening."

"Look kid," she said as if she had heard the words a thousand times before. "I know how I sound. The sight? _It's weird._ And it ain't always clear. But your son's out there. And even I don't know need the sight to tell you where you should start looking."

She coughed, causing Preston to come over with concern in his eyes, but she waved him off.

"The great big green jewel of the Commonwealth. _Diamond City._ The biggest settlement around."

 _Diamond City? Is that where Shaun is? And where the hell is it?_

"Diamond City? Is Shaun there?"

She looked tired, bags around her eyes starting to form.

"Look kid, I'm tired now. Maybe if you bring me some chems later, the sight will paint a clearer picture."

 _Oh great. This "sight" is reliant on chems. Well I'm not gonna feed this woman's addiction. But now I know where to look._

 _"_ Look Mama Murphy we talked about this!" Preston interjected angrily. "That... _junk..._ it's gonna kill you!"

"Oh shush Preston. We're all gonna die someday. We're gonna need the sight. And so is our new friend here, he's gonna need it too. And thanks to our new friend here, Sanctuary awaits!"

Preston looked angry and hurt, but knew that now was not the time to argue with Mama Murphy over her chem issue. Preston walked to the front of the Museum and lifted his laser musket up to chest level.

"Alright folks! Thanks to our friend here, it's safe to move out. We're going to move to that place that Mama Murphy knows about. Sanctuary."

One of the Longs, the wife, looked at him with complete fury. She got up on her feet and marched straight over to Preston.

"Oh so we're going somewhere based on nothing better than Mama Murphy knows about it?!" she yelled, pointing her finger straight into Preston's chest. "And now we're going to head out on another goosechase based on nothing that what Mama Murphy saw when she was stoned out of her _fucking_ mind?!"

"It can hardly turn it worse than what we've been through," Preston countered. Just as Mrs. Long was about to launch into another tirade, Nate decided to intervene.

"Sanctuary isn't that bad. It's accessible only through the river via a bridge, which is filled with drinkable water, though you have to purify it first. There's plenty of houses and it's a cul de sac. A friendly Mr. Handy guards the place so you'll have extra protection. In addition there are still beds and other stuff. Only thing you gotta worry about is food and you got a water source right next door and the soil's good," Nate said. He had checked out the cul de sac with Codsworth, before packing everything and heading towards Concord to seek answers.

"So Marcy?" Sturges said looking at the woman. "Do you have any better ideas?"

The woman stayed silent though she glared at Mama Murphy with undisguised venom. _Something happened to her._

"So it looks like Sanctuary it is."

The group checked everything and gathered all of their belongings, with Nate bringing alongside his pack and other weapons. His shotgun in his hand and his pistol locked on to his power armor's magnetic holster, the six humans and single dog left the Museum of Freedom.

"Let's move out. I'll take point. Get behind me everyone," he said to the group before looking at Nate. "Ah...well those that don't have power armor."

Each of the members, besides Mama Murphy was armed with a gun and carried a pack with them.

"We're right behind ya boss," Sturges said reassuringly. The group passed by the dead raiders and the shredded body of the deathclaw. _Glad that's over._ Preston stepped over the fallen body, whistling his admiration.

"I still can't believe you took that thing out!" Sturges said with astonishment. They continued past the deathclaw body, with the Longs and Sturges taking the time to loot anything of value from the dead raiders. They took caps, bullets, and several guns, most of them pipe guns chambering the .38 round. From the dead hands of the blue mohawk raider, Sturges had the hunting rifle and five magazines of .308 caliber rounds. Each magazine held five bullets.

"When we get to Sanctuary Nate," Sturges addressed him. "This is gonna be yours. She's a fine beauty, even if she did have her barrel shortened a tad."

The rest of the way was quiet. The sun was starting to set, shining the river with its glow by the time they arrived at Sanctuary. They cross the bridge and Nate directed them to the house straight across from him, the one that already had the beds in them. He didn't tell them he had spent four nights there.

"Good evening sir! It's been almost twelve hours since you left this morning! I assume these are friends of yours?" he heard the ever chipper voice of Codsworth ask as the robot butler approach them.

"Yes Codsworth. They are friendly. They'll be sleeping across the street from us tonight," he informed the robot.

"Splendid sir! It's been almost two hundred and ten years since I've seen someone else besides you who _hasn't_ tried to shoot me and turn me into scrap metal! Shall I prepare the blankets and pillows?"

"Yeah," he said and looking to see the group drop their jaws in shock.

"Read beds? Haven't slept in a real bed in months. Dirt, floors, maybe a bed roll. But a an actual bed? I'm liking this place already!" Sturges said. _He looks like the mechanical type,_ Nate observed for the first time. After all he had been the one at the terminal and with the plan to use the power armor in the first place.

"Hey Sturges, what did you do before you got stuck with Preston?" Nate asked.

"I was a handyman back in Quincy. My old man taught me duct tape could fix anything, I don't think he was talking about bullet holes. Why do you ask?"

"There's also a workshop. One of my old neighbors from way back when was a mechanic and liked to do a lot interior work. Doesn't look like looters or raiders have gotten at it, so it's yours. Tools are all still there," he told Sturges who whistled.

"Damn! Preston, I'm sure glad this fella came along!" Sturges said happily. Marcy Long went in front of Nate with her head held low. She spoke in a low voice.

"It's...it's much better than I expected. I'm sorry for doubting your word Mister..." Marcy Long said somberly.

"Nate. Just call me Nate."

Marcy said a quick _thank you_ before taking her husband's hand and following Codsworth and Sturges. Preston stood right next to him, admiring the view of Sanctuary Hills.

"We can settle here. Houses are in shambles, but nothing we can't fix. Saw the soil you were talking about, good for raising crops. Water's not gonna kill you, though I'm sure glad we brought that water purifier. Defensible. I think...I think this is a place I can call home. What do you say Mama Murphy?" Preston said. Mama Murphy flashed a smile at the two of them.

"Oh kid, this place is gonna be booming. Just keep that little thing called hope in your heart. This is we're gonna start rebuilding our lives and futures."


	3. Returning the Favor

**Sanctuary Hills, Commonwealth**

The next few days were a blur. Nate busied himself by helping to repair roofs with the tools from his garage and basement while Sturges went to work on an irrigation system designed to bring water to a small farm they were building near the edge of the cul de sac. The Longs had been farmers back in Quincy, where most of the group was from.

Preston had been hard at work patrolling with Codsworth the edges of the town, looking out for raiders and mutated wildlife. When he wasn't patrolling, he was helping Sturges with minor repairs and scrapping cars and the houses for scrap metal and other useful items. They even found a working generator in the basement of one of the houses, allowing them to have power. Sturges was a whiz with the generator and soon they had a working stove and Nate donated his dishes (which had been kept in good condition by Codsworth) for the group.

As the group started to make their home in Sanctuary, Nate had gotten to known each of the group, though the Longs kept to themselves with farming. Sturges had grown up in Quincy, being the town's handyman and repairing basically anything that was brought to him. He had inherited his skills from his father who had inherited his skills from his father. The Longs used to run a store and sell their excess produce. And that was everything he had gotten out of them.

Quincy had been the second largest settlement in the Commonwealth before a group of mercenaries called the Gunners had sacked the town for _somebody._ Preston was especially angry when the mention of Quincy came up.

"The Minutemen used to be _respected_ by the people of the Commonwealth. We were always there to defend the people at a moment's notice. I've been with the Minutemen ever since I was seventeen. I rose through the ranks and was a Lieutenant when we were called by Sturges to defend by the time we rolled into Quincy, the Minutemen were complacent. Weak. Only my group lead by Colonel Ezra Hollis responded to the call. We defended against the Gunners as best we could. Colonel Hollis went down fighting and I lead the survivors from that damn place," Preston told him over dinner one day.

"What are you going to do about the Minutemen?" Nate had asked him and Preston seemed perplexed.

"I...I don't know. This life is all I know. I want to rebuild them but I don't know where to start. I've got my hands full helping out here. But I'm sure I'll find a way."

After almost four days, Sanctuary was humming with energy. Codsworth patrolled the streets at night while Dogmeat accompanied Preston on his patrols during the daytime. The Longs were starting to grow _tato_ plants using seeds they had brought with them from Quincy. Sturges was busy hammering away on a car removing the scrap metal from it. The sun was shining and the clouds were non-existent. Nate was drinking from his old army canteen when Preston came running towards them, Dogmeat hot on his heels. He dropped his laser musket right next to Sturges workshop, breathing hard.

"What happened Preston?" Sturges asked as Preston started to regain his normal breathing pattern.

"Got word from a settlement that is asking for help from the Minutemen. The Abernathy Farm, which just about two miles or so away from here, just had their daughter kidnapped by raiders. They're demanding a thousand caps otherwise they're going to kill her," Preston explained breathlessly. Nate frowned. _Great. Raiders. Just what we needed._

"So what are you going to do about it?" Sturges asked. "None of us are fighters except for you and Nate. I'm not saying I can't fight, but I'm use to fixing things with these hands, not breaking them."

"The only chance we have to start rebuilding the Minutemen is show these people that we still _care._ That they can count on us. Problem is that there is only _one_ of me. I can't go on taking on a group of raiders by myself," Preston said miserably. " _Goddamn it!_ I can't be here and not help these people out. The Minutemen used to mean _something._ Now we mean nothing. Nothing to these people. All of our people are dead, retired, or _Gunners."_

Nate could tell that Preston was beating himself up over this. He was feeling guilty over being the last surviving Minutemen. In a way, Nate was feeling the same thing. They took his wife's life and kidnapped his son. _Diamond City._ He had been preparing to leave in a few days, to make the trek towards his favorite ballpark. It was eighteen miles to Diamond City from Sanctuary and most likely a day's journey.

But Nate also knew that he couldn't just ignore this. When he was in college, he took HIST 201 with a professor by the name of Dr. Jonathan Trucker. The old man had taught him everything about history. He taught him about American history and how the Minutemen were _always ready at a minute's notice. (_ The professor had also added that they were ready to disappear from training at a minute's notice as well.) But one thing stuck with him all through his time in the army and when he married Nora.

 _Remember son, the only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing._ And he simply _couldn't_ do nothing.

"Where's Abernathy Farm?" Nate asked suddenly and Preston looked at him.

"Couple of miles south of here. Raise Brahmin and tato plants. Settlement of about twelve people. The Abernathys run it, along with a few farmhands and guards. Why?"

"Both of us are going to take care of this raider problem. You want to lead the Minutemen back to their former glory? It starts _here_ and _now._ We're going to head over there, ask where the hell these raiders are, kill them, and bring back Mary," Nate stated simply. Preston gave him a weird look before smiling widely.

"Yeah. Yeah! That's what we're gonna do. That's how I'm going to rebuild the Minutemen. Showing these people that they count on _us."_

He grabbed his laser musket before turning towards Sturges. The black Minuteman raised his laser musket in his hands as he addressed his friend.

"Sturges, I'm going to ask you a huge favor. Can you watch over the Sanctuary while me and Nate go sort out this raider problem?"

"Yeah. As long as you leave Codsworth here, we should be fine. Me and the Longs got weapons and Mama Murphy just sits in the house all day besides dinner. I'm also working on something that I think you'll like. It'll be up and running by the time you come back," Sturges said mysteriously before winking.

"Thank you. Normally I'd stay here, but I'm a Minuteman. I need to respond to this," Preston responded quietly. Nate went into his house and quickly armed himself. He attached the leather armor pieces onto his vault suit, piecing them one by one. They wouldn't stop a bullet, but it was better than nothing. He slid his 10mm pistol into his side holster, slung his rifle over his back, and carried his shotgun. He got his pack and slid the straps over his shoulders.

It was exciting, Nate had to admit. These raiders were a burden on the survivors out here in the Commonwealth and he would be damned if he wouldn't help out. It was part of the oath he swore when he joined the military. To defend the citizens and fight against all enemies foreign and _domestic._

Dogmeat and Preston were waiting for him by the bridge, Preston carrying a pack as well. The two were ready for him as he checked his gear out one more time.

"Abernathy Farm is just two miles down south. We'll be there within the hour," Preston informed him.

The two sent off towards Abernathy Farm, following a desolate road. Dogmeat bounced between the two. For the first mile it was silent as the two looked out for raiders and mutated wildlife. But the road was silent, silent as the wind and nothing of note happened.

Soon Abernathy Farm was within view. There was a large two-story structure made out of metal that rose from the ground. It was built into the frame of a high voltage tower that thankfully seemed to have its lines cut.

A partially completed wall surrounded the north and west sides of the structure while uncultivated crops grew in front of them. Three men armed with pipe rifles and pistols and dressed in leather armor were patrolling in front of the structure while farmhands were tending to the pack of Brahmin or with the crops. One man was sitting on a chair in front of the brahmin, armed with a double-barreled shotgun.

He was wearing a dark button up shirt, tattered jeans and a red scarf with an open unbelted trenchcoat and work gloves worn over his hands. His beard was black with graying hair, while his eyes had bags underneath them. It was apparent he hadn't been sleeping in a few days.

"Woah, mister. Stop where you're at and don't move a muscle unless you want your head missing," one of the guards said, stopping in front of the two. Dogmeat looked at Nate as if asking if he should take them out. _Not right now._

"Is that what you say to every Minuteman that walks up to your farm?" Nate asked politely and the guard looked stunned.

"Minuteman? What the hell? I thought all of you were dead or run off!" the guard said flabbergasted. "You gotta see Mr. Abernathy right away!"

The guard let them pass and lead them to the man in the chair with the shotgun.

"Boss, these guys are the Minutemen," the guard said and man looked at them with scrutinizing eyes.

"Oh yeah? Last Minuteman I ever saw was a couple of months ago. Tried to charge me for his services. Ran his ass out of here with buckshot in it. Tell me why should I trust you two?" the farmer asked, venom in his voice.

"Mr. Abernathy, we're not going to charge you for our... _services?_ No, we're here to rebuild the relationship between us and Abernathy Farm," Preston responded cooly.

"Rebuild? What do you mean rebuild?"

"The Minutemen have been decimated since the Quincy Massacre. Nate and I...we're the last ones left."

Soon Abernathy's face softened and he put his shotgun down besides his feet.

"Let me tell you something. Have any of you farmed before?" Abernathy asked and both of them looked at each other with puzzlement. _No. Dad grew up in San Diego and my mom was from Mexico. Met and had me. But neither were farmers. I grew up in Boston, fought in Anchorage, and married Nora._

"No. Fought in the Minutemen all my life. Nate here...same deal. Soldiers," Preston said somewhat hesitantly. Abernathy sighed before rocking his chair back.

"It's hard work. Day and day out in the sun, baking, not knowing if your crops are going to survive. _Backbreaking_ work. But us Abernathys have been farmers since before the bombs fell. Farming is all we know. But what the hell is the point of all that hard work if you can just take what you want from gunpoint?" Abernathy mused. "Cause raiders are gonna take everything you hold dear. They'll take your crops, take your money, but what hurts the most is when they take your family. My daughter Mary is just twenty-one. Last time those raiders came through, she tried to stand up to them. Bastards broke her arm and took her."

 _I know what it's like to lose a child. To feel that hurt. To know your entire world is taken from you._

"There's nothing worse than losing a child. Believe me...I _know,"_ Nate said, speaking up for the first time. Abernathy looked at him with surprise.

"I'm sorry to hear you say so," Abernathy offered his sympathies. "Listen, I'm sorry I was a bit rude. You're offering your help in finding Mary. I know where those bastards went. It's a few hours walk from here. Place called Corvega Assembly Plant down in Lexington. Lead by a bastard named Jared. Fucker has been raiding us for weeks now. Luckily one of his lieutenants was killed in Concord. That was you guys wasn't it?"

"Uh...yeah. Well mostly Nate here. But we took them out," Preston said, uncomfortable and rubbing the back of his neck. Nate didn't want to bring attention to himself so he just shrugged.

"Well good. Jared has been harassing us for far too long," Abernathy snarled. "Take Luke here with you. He knows the way to the Plant and is a pretty good shot. Good luck."

As they said their goodbyes, Nate and Preston met Luke out in front of the farm. He was the one who let them in the first place. He wore leather armor, a one-sleeved, black leather jacket with leather pants. He carried a pipe rifle, which chambered the .38 round and a 10mm pistol as well. He stood over six feet tall, which was taller than both Preston and Nate. While Nate had black hair and green eyes, Luke had sandy brown hair and brown eyes.

"Bossman said I was supposed to show you where the Corvega Assembly Plant is and help you get Mary back. I like Miss Mary. Makes one hell out of molerat stew. I've been itching to get those bastards back since they took Miss Mary," Luke said to them as they left. "I've been guarding this place since I was old enough to hold a gun."

"How long will it take us to get to Lexington?" Preston asked Luke.

"About two or three hours depending on if we run into trouble if we get there. It's Jared's territory but with Gristle biting the bullet from ya'll it should be a hell of a lot easier to get there. Taking them out is a different story," Luke cheekily observed.

The three humans and single dog set off towards Lexington in order to restore faith in the Minutemen and rescue a farmer's daughter.

* * *

Jared had never been the most patient of men. He had given the Abernathys a week to pay him a thousand caps in order get their bitch daughter back. It's been only two days and he already wanted her dead. True, he had beaten the shit out of her with a lead pipe, but that was just _routine._ He had been on edge ever since Gristle had bit the bullet in the most literal sense of the metaphor and he had been warring with the Gunners and other raider gangs for control of Lexington itself.

He needed caps and he needed more men. Shit he needed some Jet but the assholes who provided it for him weren't willing to let him buy it until he had Mama Murphy. And that plan went up shit's creek. And that had put his other plans on hold. To become the baddest motherfucker out there. To make sure nobody messed with him. And to gain the sight.

 _Kid you're gonna be a monster._ She had told that to him one day back when he was innocent. Back when the biggest worry of his was whether Jenny from down the street liked him or whether his parents made enough caps to feed them for that week. And then they came. In his dreams he would relive that night. The raiders burning down his town, shooting everyone older than ten. Laughing as they raped his mother and older sister. Cackling as they gunned down his father when he tried to fight back. Stealing the other kids, beating them with lead pipes and bats. Beating _him._ Taking them back to their base where they molded them into the monsters they are today.

He sighed as he massaged his temple. He had sent Gristle to find Mama Murphy when he heard of Quincy's fall from the Gunners. Whoever paid the Gunners to wipe out the second biggest settlement in the wasteland must have had a lot of caps and a lot of time on his hands. _A joker in a cowboy hat and a laser musket. Some caravan entering Concord._ He had thought Gristle would be man enough to take down the last of the Minutemen. He had been wrong.

It didn't matter to him. Lexington was going to be his. It was _his._ And so would Mama Murphy. He would have the sight and he would rule over the Commonwealth. He just knew it.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! Thanks for the follows and favorites! Here's to more Fallout 4!**

 **Paladin Bailey: It's not necessary a Brotherhood of Steel novel though I love them. There is definitely going to be a heavy focus on them. Ad Victoriam brother.**


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